Suddenly, I was overcome with sadness and my heart felt as if it had been pierced with a dagger. Today, I heard news that in this city, which is already crowded with mosques, a primary school building is set to be demolished. In its place, a new grand mosque is to be erected. This mosque will be greatly exalted, possibly rivalling other newly built mosques in different cities that have cost over a trillion rupiahs. Consequently, the students of this primary school will be transferred to other schools, where they will have to cram into tight classrooms.
Oh, the sorrow I feel. If the news is true, it means people are more passionate about worshipping in grand mosques than nurturing gardens of knowledge for their children and grandchildren.
The news reminds me of a story called ‘Kaji Sangit.’ This story is based on a semi-true tale; about why people started calling the character in this story by the nickname, ‘Kaji Sangit.’
His real name was Soleman. Having made a pilgrimage to the holy land of Mecca, he was naturally addressed as Kaji. People should have called him Kaji Soleman. However, behind his back, people whispered and referred to him as Kaji Sangit, half in fear, half in mockery. This was because they believed that despite his pilgrimage, Kaji Soleman would end up as a sinner in hell due to his stinginess.
That’s why he was dubbed Kaji Sangit – the stench of his burning in hell as if it was already perceptible in this world. Quite extraordinary!
***
The richest man in the village was Kaji Soleman. But for many, he was also known as the stingiest man. Whenever someone approached him for a donation for a mosque or prayer room, that person always returned empty-handed.
One victim of Kaji Soleman’s stinginess was Kusni, a caretaker of one of the mosques in the village. One afternoon, after leading the Asr prayer, Kusni paid a visit to Kaji Soleman. Aware of the rumours about Kaji Soleman’s refusal to make donations, Kusni, leveraging his position as a mosque caretaker, tried to soften Kaji Soleman’s heart.
After exchanging pleasantries, Kusni expressed his reason for visiting Kaji Soleman. “Compared to other mosques, our mosque is too small, Kaji. And it looks shabby and dull. This is God’s house; it should be grand.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. But I apologize, I can’t contribute funds to enlarge and embellish our mosque right now. I have many other needs,” Kaji Soleman replied.
After the Isha prayer, Kusni gathered the mosque’s management and announced Kaji Soleman’s refusal. They grumbled on the mosque’s porch. Among them was Parno, the village head accompanied by a few officials. “Why wouldn’t such a rich man donate to build a mosque? Doesn’t he want the blessings of continuous charity?” Kusni initiated the conversation.
“He’s a real miser,” one chimed in.
“Stingy.”
“Surely, he’ll end up in hell!”
“That’s Kaji Sangit for you!”
Some grumbled, some chuckled. But from that day on, people started calling Kaji Soleman as Kaji Sangit.
***
Over time, the villagers began to notice a stranger who appeared more frequently in their village. Sometimes, they’d see him walk quickly around a corner and vanish in an instant. Other times, they’d see him sitting alone in a hut on the edge of a rice field. Occasionally, he’d appear to emerge from someone’s house, but when the house owner was questioned, they would deny having any guests.
Concern and suspicion about the stranger grew when someone claimed to have been robbed. One afternoon, as the stranger was sitting silently in a hut on the outskirts of the field, he was apprehended and taken to the village office. There, he was interrogated by a man named Parno and surrounded by several village security officers.
Throughout the interrogation, the stranger insisted he was not a thief, but merely a traveler. In a fit of frustration, one of the security officers punched the stranger in the face, causing his nose to bleed.
Word of the stranger’s arrest spread quickly. People began to gather at the village office to see who the captured stranger was. Among the crowd was a woman named Kusni.
“Good heavens… that’s…,” Sumarni nearly shouted in hysteria as she recognized the stranger with the bleeding nose. Amidst the crowd, the hands of this widow with two children were trembling as she covered her face.
A few people turned to stare at Sumarni in surprise. “Wait, do you know him?”
“Who is he?”
“Yes, who is he, Marni?” Parno eventually approached Marni.
After a moment of confusion and glancing around, Marni finally spoke in a trembling voice, “I don’t know his name or where he comes from. But a year ago, he visited my house, and left without a word, leaving money for my children’s school fees. My children can go to school because of him.”
Sumarni’s confession plunged the crowd into astonished silence. They simply looked at each other, then at the stranger.
Amid the silence, someone else spoke up, “He also came to my house once. Late at night. He gave me some land to farm, and I used the profits to build the shack I lived in until recently. Now I have my own house.”
One by one, several people testified that the stranger, whoever he was and wherever he came from, was the same person who had once visited their homes offering aid. His help came in various forms – farmland, income-generating work, loans, or business capital with no repayment deadline.
Thanks to this stranger, the lives of the less fortunate villagers began to change. No more children unable to go to school. No more people constantly anxious about not having a house or their shacks collapsing. No more people worried about starving due to lack of work or income.
After listening to these testimonials, Kusni and Parno approached the stranger together to continue their interrogation. “Please, tell us truly, who are you? Let’s clear up any misunderstandings,” Kusni pleaded, holding the stranger’s hand. Everyone fell silent, waiting for the stranger’s response.
“I’m nobody. I’m just an emissary of Kaji Soleman…”
“What?! Kaji Sangit?!”
***
The final part of the Kaji Sangit story is not to be missed. Upon returning from his pilgrimage, Kaji Soleman stopped by the house of Kiai Chudori. He sought advice about what charitable deeds he should prioritize in his village.
Before giving advice, Kiai Chudori asked about the condition of Kaji Soleman’s village. “The spread of Islam is progressing, sir. We already have ten mosques, and we plan to build another grand one,” Kaji Soleman replied.
“What about your neighbors, how are they living?”
“Well, sir, there are still many poor people. Many cannot afford to send their children to school. Many lack proper housing. Many have ended up as vagrants in the city,” Kaji Soleman responded.
“That’s your field of charity,” said Kiai Chudori.
“What if we don’t end up building the grand mosque, sir?”
“The grand mosque can wait. First, enrich the hearts of your neighbors, because truly, your mosque is within your heart. If your heart is prosperous, your mosque will naturally be prosperous. There’s no need for you to make it so. There’s no need to magnify it.”
“But how do I do that, sir? I worry about becoming the subject of gossip if I don’t contribute to the mosque construction, but instead contribute to other things?”
“I have a student who wishes to travel. Invite him to live in your village. Let him handle your charity work.”
Since then, in the village of Kaji Soleman, alias Kaji Sangit, the figure of a stranger would often be seen – who was none other than Kiai Chudori’s student.
***
Indeed, my heart aches when I heard that a school building in this city is to be demolished to make way for a grand mosque. Then, I remembered the story of Kaji Sangit, and I look around, perhaps there’s a student of Kiai Chudori here.
Illustration: facebook.com.